Well, for those of us who actually work, it’ll likely be a painful crunch as we try to get things accomplished while 60% of the staff is officially out and 20% are just keeping their desks/cubicles/booths filled until they feel like they can duck out.

I had a weird dream.

No, it didn’t look anything like that, it was about moving/replacing part of my fence that the idiotic former owners put across the property line. Neighbor says he’s building a garage and the two things might end up too close together. Time to build a privacy fence on that side or just sell the place.

Next Monday will be President Trump’s first Monday on the job. Former VP Biden will be tooling around in his new Corvette, and 0bama will be reduced to plotting how best to destroy America from outside the White House.

Per what I’ve heard from the Left, by this time next Monday, millions of Messican invader families will be shattered by the Trumpenmarine. Womyn will be sent home from all military jobs, possibly all jobs. VP Pence will be prowling about with a portable electrocution device killing homosexuals. Oh, and blacks will all be property again, or something like that. Hollywood and fun will be outlawed. The world will be literally on fire from global warming.

Did I miss anything? Let me know in the comments.

Marred by ink.

Just a bit too much shadow here.

Pretty eyes.

Something seems “off” here.

A little too skinny, maybe.

How long do you suppose she held this?

Hello Kitty.

Looks like California. Wonder if they’ll do us a favor and secede.

She looks intense.

Her too.

Happy Monday, everyone. Enjoy these last few days before Trumpmaggedon.

As promised, I took pics of the Spad XIII for Spad13.
Also the Spad VII.
I actually like the Christmas one better, but this seems appropriate.
No Fokker Dr.1 triplanes have survived, so this is a repro, hanging with a Curtis Jenny.
And if you’re going to have the Red Baron’s plane, you need a Sopwith Camel.
That will do. I didn’t quite take enough pics to recreate the museum, but I did take a lot.
Thank you for your attention, and y’all have a good day.

Nine days from now I will have worked here for a year. Neat. Overall, I’ve gotten sort of used to the idea, and I’ve made my peace with it. The rejection from the old office stung, a lot, but even I admit that I bombed the interview. I’m sure it will work out for the best, and there are things I wasn’t looking forward to even if I had gotten an offer. I was even considering turning it down if it came, particularly if the money wasn’t a big step up. There is still an outside chance of me going to work for my friend the wizard doing cyber-security stuff, but I have to live and work every day as though that’s never happening, otherwise I might not put in an honest day’s work or plan properly for the future that it’s entirely likely I’ll be part of.

That’s how long I’ll be here. May as well grit my teeth and make the best of it. At least it’s honest work and the pay is pretty good and the benefits are nice and there are lots of holidays and my office chair is comfy…

So, there were some neat parallels between July 4 1776 and June 23, 2016. Both times, it was a big group of Englishmen (primarily) who wanted out from under the thumb of a distant, oppressive, unaccountable government. Both times, the last straw might have been tea. Look, I’m going to warn the rest of you earthlings for the last time: do NOT get between a Briton and his beverage of choice. We burn continents, destroy empires, and generally make a big mess of things over this stuff. Yoo-rope should be thankful that they just walked out this time. You fools ought to be hiding under the table and counting quietly to 100 hoping they won’t come back and torch the place.

Anyhow, I’d like to think that we good folk descended in part from the best and brightest the Iles had to offer the world a few centuries back might have had something to do with it. Showed ’em how, as it were. Now, we should probably talk about orthodontia and rhoticity at some point, but it can wait until after you’ve got a decent Prime Minister, and possibly until after we’ve shed the Muslim Brotherhood plant from our white house. In the meantime, I wish you folks the best of luck making Britain great again, and I hope you’ll take a little bit of joy watching us celebrate what we won for ourselves so long ago, and perhaps feel just a bit more kinship than in years past.

Also, stay tuned for #TEXIT, #AKEXIT, and possibly #QUEBEXIT.

I thought about trying to find patriotic fit girls, but that seemed like work and I’m on vacation. Also I looked and there aren’t a ton of images just waiting to be poached.

So the new pony beat up our horse to the point we were worried about her being lamed by it. Bloody chest, bleeding leg wound, just awful. We’ve got them separated now, and he’s headed back to the horse rescue sometime this week. Our donation will be staying there too, unfortunately. Horses are dumb pets. If you haven’t heard me say that enough times to put you off getting some of your own, I can’t help you. Get a guinea pig or a rabbit or something if you have to have an edible pet (or a dog if you’re related to the SCOAMF), but not a horse, unless you’re Amish and intend use them for work. At least our old horse isn’t awful, but they can’t live alone, so we’ll have to try again. Yay.

I remember it. Not well, because it sucked and it wasn’t really something I could relate to as a little white boy in the suburbs, but I’m pretty sure Two-Two-Seven was a black sitcom with mostly female leads in the 80’s.

*checks wikipedia*

Yep. Aired from ’85 and ’89, starred Marla Gibbs and Jackée Harry. There was really nothing there for me. Pretty sure it still sucked, even if you could relate to it.

Anyhow, Pupster sent me this, so you can all accuse him of being into trannies too.

Another week begins, our grieving continues. Not gonna jabber about my issues this week, just going to wish for a good week for us all, and that we should all feel the courage and joy we need to face it.

Mare’s Musings

February 18, 2018

I’ll tell you, I had to turn the Olympics off last night. The gay overload with the gay flags and gayness and the gay skier and the all about gay was too much for me. How does being gay have ANYTHING to do with skiing unless you’re purposefully landing on a pole?